Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Jencks PT
Jencks PT
So, the modernist reality is often grim and its economic practice rather dismal, to
use the standard phrase about its non-science (see Anatole Kaletsky on economics,
Part 3). However, Modern culture, stemming from this reality is sometimes very
different from its background, and also critical of modernisation. This critical
strand is precisely the one that leads into Post-Modernism, a golden thread of
continuity. To be brief, it includes such works as Giorgio de Chirico’s
metaphysical paintings, Picasso’s Guernica, Stravinsky’s Sacre de Printemps, Le
Corbusier’s buildings at Ronchamp and Chandigarh, TS Eliot’s The Waste Land and
James Joyce’s Ulysses. All these monuments of Modernism are fundamentally concerned
with time-binding and responding to the myths embedded in contemporary life. Cathy
Gere’s recent Knossos and the Prophets of Modernism even shows how most of these
great works are involved with a single past myth: that of ancient Crete and the
Minoan myth of the Minotaur. These creations are complex mixtures of many
discourses and, in the terms I have been stressing, typically double-coded between
past and present, high art and low, etc. They eschew the reductive impulse of most
Modernist work and while abstract at moments they resist the eliminative strain of
the Modern. In a word, they are proto-Post-Modern, the strand that continues to run
unbroken through the 20th century – albeit as the thin thread of a minority.
The writer John Barth, like Umberto Eco, calls attention to this strand in The
Literature of Replenishment (republished in full, Part 2), as he emphasises the
inclusive nature of PM:
My ideal postmodernist author neither merely repudiates nor merely imitates either
his twentieth-century Modernist parents or his nineteenth-century premodernist
grandparents. He has the first half of our century under his belt, but not on his
back. Without lapsing into moral or artistic simplism, shoddy craftsmanship,
Madison Avenue venality, or either false or real naiveté, he nevertheless aspires
to a fiction more democratic in its appeal than such late-modernist marvels (by my
definition and in my judgement) as Beckett’s Stories and Texts for Nothing or
Nabokov’s Pale Fire. He may not hope to reach and move the devotees of James
Michener and Irving Wallace – not to mention the lobotomized mass-media
illiterates. But he should hope to reach and delight, at least part of the time,
beyond the circle of what Mann used to call the Early Christians: professional
devotees of high art.12